


Forfeit

by linaerys



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Incest, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Robot Sex, low-g sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linaerys/pseuds/linaerys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the <a href="http://jakink.dreamwidth.org/724.html">kink_meme</a>: <i>Snarky, insult-filled and rougher than necessary. I don't especially care about the situation, but bonus points (and a free planet, maybe) if it includes Titus insisting on riding Balem, because he knows he looks really hot like that.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Forfeit

"Brother, sometimes I think you lose so quickly because you enjoy the forfeit." Balem's usual whisper has shades of satisfaction in it.

It's not true; Titus fought hard to keep his factories producing even with the unfavorable laws that Balem's pet politicians forced through in the Procyon system, but now he's knows it's better to let his brother think he is a wastrel than admit how badly he wanted to win. He shrugs, and the crystals on his shoulders brush against Balem's black silk.

"Is that why you spent so much on bribes?" Titus asks. "The system isn't worth as much as all that. Most of the planets have been harvested already." The screen in front of them wavers into a mirror for a moment, long enough for Titus to see Balem standing behind him, hands on his shoulder like the claws of a preying mantis. Then it returns to Balem's favored scenery: a map of all his holdings, a net of stars that caught Titus again.

"The loser doesn't ask questions." Balem's whisper grows harsher.

"Of course," says Titus, bowing his head. "What do you want to do to me, brother?"

Balem hisses at the query. Their wagers spin out over centuries--it was a long time ago that Titus was last here, when their mother was still alive. He wonders if Balem plays the same games with their sister, or if this is a product of Balem's particular hatred for him, their mother's favorite. Will it be sharpened now that she's gone?

The last time Balem watched Titus tied up, splayed out before him, teased and tortured by his slaves for days, watching with eyes opaque, before Titus begged to be let go. Balem accepted his lips and tongue then, like a god accepts the prayers of the least of his petitioners, and then sent Titus away. 

Titus comes back to that memory with longing and revulsion from time to time; he has recreated it with his slaves and paramours and played every role, trying to exorcise its power.

"What do _you_ want?" Balem asks, that whisper in his ear close enough for Titus to feel the air from his lips. 

So the torture is to be subtler this time, layers of truth peeled back instead of skin.

Titus turns and takes a step back. "You liked watching me so much last time, I remember. But this time I think you should watch me from closer up."

Balem smirks. "You overrate yourself. As usual. Still, it might be diverting."

Balem insists on sims to prepare them, floating Titus into the air where cold mechanical hands strip and open him up. Balem's own are probably a more humane temperature. Titus tries not to look, because Balem watches him without shame, and he will see what Titus tries to hide. He is far more fascinated with Balem than Balem with him, no matter that he indulges in this sometimes.

When they are both ready, Balem nude and erect, though still looking as untouched as he did when Titus entered the room, Balem gestures for the sims to turn Titus around. Titus flings them off. 

"I didn't think it was my back you wanted to watch," he says, quirking his lips. 

Balem's lips part. He gestures again, and sims position them together in the low-g bubble. "I'm not the only one who likes to watch," he says, this time his whisper almost inaudible. Then gravity increases and draws them together, Titus falls onto and around him.

The last time, when Titus wasn't out of his mind with pain and pleasure, he tried to see Balem reacting to the spectacle. Balem yawned and asked for small delicacies to be brought to his lips. His composure was near perfect, the better to extend Titus's forfeit, for the terms of their wager say that the forfeit only goes on until the peak of the winner's pleasure.

"Move," Balem orders Titus, whisper deeper and more urgent.

Titus does, riding him, watching him, wondering how long Balem will allow this to go on. Surely it can't be this easy. 

When Balem breaks into anger or--this, it always happens fast. He pushes Titus off him, and the gravity field throws him against the wall hard enough to break bone. When Titus stands, cradling a useless arm in his whole one, Balem is facing away from him, his back shuddering.

"Go," Balem screams, "and take your false forfeits. I'm done with this game."

Titus takes a deep breath to steady his voice from the pain. "What is it, brother, that you won't you let me see?"


End file.
